


In Her Imprisonment Rises

by straightforwardly



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:56:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5020219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightforwardly/pseuds/straightforwardly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah lost, but is not lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Her Imprisonment Rises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piscaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/gifts).



> Piscaria, I took your prompts of "trapped in the labyrinth" and "peach hallucinations", and ran with it. I hope you enjoy the result!
> 
> Title is derived from the poem "What Are Years?" by Marianne Moore.

In a secret corner of the Labyrinth, there spins a crystal. 

It is no ordinary crystal. Within that crystal dwells a dream, and within that dream dwells a girl. 

Bright is the world she lives in. Gentle music wafts through the air, played by musicians who never tire. Masked dancers, clad in gowns of silk and chiffon, whirl about the room, laughing in time to the music, while others gather against walls, fans fluttering rapidly in their hands, their eyes bright, and their smiles mocking.

Throughout this room, the girl wanders; in this room, the girl dances. The surrusus of whispers greets her every move, yet no one ever speaks. 

Long has she wandered, in the realm of that crystal. Long has she danced, in the world of her dreams.

(She should not remain. She had neither won her challenge nor chosen her dreams; she had entered that crystal only through trickery, and the clock had struck thirteen long ago. By the laws of the Labyrinth, she should have been sent back home, the memories of her charge only the faintest wisp of a swiftly fading dream. 

And yet, there she remained, wandering aimlessly, dancing breathlessly, as the Goblin King watched.)

* * *

(Breaking such laws always had consequences.)

* * *

He does not know why he always returns.

She is nothing special— only a girl, just another Challenger among many. She had come far, but others had come further. She’d come quickly, but others had been quicker. And in the end, she had failed.

Many have failed the Labyrinth. There is nothing special in this. 

(None had ever befriended the Labyrinth as she had, but he ignores this. 

That trust had been her downfall.)

It is always the same when he comes to see her. Always bright, the air filled with the thick, sweet scent of peaches, and always filled with shadows, dancing in the mimicry of human form. And _Sarah_ , swept along with it all, confusion suppressed and lingering somewhere behind her foggy gaze, even as she gives him a tentative smile.

He should have released her long ago. There is no reason why he should not; the game had been won, and the child taken. He should shatter her prison, send her to her home, to a quiet life in a quiet house. 

He tells himself this, and yet, he finds himself ever returning to the crystal where she lingers— and yet, he does not let her go.

It has been sixty-one thousand, three hundred and sixty-eight hours since the clock struck thirteen.

* * *

Something is wrong.

He senses the disturbance the moment he steps into the crystal. It’s a shift in the air, a deviation in the muttered voices, a discordant twang in the music. Something has happened, though he does not know what.

He cannot find her.

He circles the ballroom twice, and still does not see her. She is not among the crowd of dancers, nor is she flowing with the sweep of movement across the room. She does not linger near the musicians, nor can he find her in the groups of people clustered against the walls. 

She is simply not there. She has vanished— and yet, somehow, the dream is still intact.

This should not be.

The third time he circles the room, he sees it, in a place where none of the shadows that dance and laugh stray near. 

Where there was once nothing more than a wall stands large, glass-plated door. The door stands open, leading into a garden outside. 

No, not a garden. An _orchard_.

This should not be. There should be no large, glass door; there should be no orchard. He shaped this crystal and its dreams with his own hands, and he knows, he _knows_ , there is nothing more to this world than the ballroom.

And yet, there it is: an open door, and the night beyond.

He steps through the doorway. 

Everything abruptly goes silent. When he turns, he sees the ballroom is still behind him, rich in its garishness, but he cannot hear a sound. Dancers twirl around to silence; mouths move, but no sound comes out. 

He turns back to the orchard. The trees grow in straight, narrow lines that dizzies him to look at. Apples, red and lush, dangle in clusters on the branches.

He walks.

And at the end of the row, he finds her. 

Her back is to him. Her hair falls down her back in a tangled mass, free of its pins; he cannot see her face.

He does not call her name. Spells are finicky things; to hear her name, would only weaken this one further. 

There is already too much wrong here.

She seems to notice him, regardless. She turns, and meets his eyes.

Her gaze is cool, determined— _clear_. 

In her hand, she holds an apple. She smiles at him as she raises it to her mouth. 

In that instant, he knows what she has done— what she plans to do. Fear and shock tangle themselves within him, and he reaches out to her— too far, too late—

She bites down—

—and the Labyrinth rushes up to meet her, as the world falls down.

**Author's Note:**

> Assuming that the events of the movie takes place in 1986, and that I did my math correctly, 61,386 hours = 7 years.


End file.
